Catfantastic II

by Andre Norton

  In a length of time that seemed much shorter than it should have, they reached the edge of the forest. The fox stopped under a clump of broken conifer limbs, putting the kit down carefully between her paws. She spent the time waiting for Cat to catch up washing the kit, massaging with her large fox tongue to get the circulation flowing again. After awhile, Cat came up and began the same treatment on Shado.

  With both kits cleaned and curled together in sleep, Cat began his own long-overdue toilet. He began at the tip of his tail and worked his way methodically toward the final lap, ears and whiskers. Finished, he looked around to find the fox as meticulously grooming herself as he had.

  Thank you, Cat said and the fox stopped in mid-lick.

  My pleasure, the fox replied. I like to see a family stay together and I did not think you were going to get far trying to carry two kits at once.

  Cat smoothed his whiskers again with a clean paw. I’m sure, he murmured. But I couldn’t come back for the other kit. You heard the hounds.

  I do believe we left them at the river. I haven’t heard them in some time.

  You really do know these woods. Are you as familiar with the castle?

  Goodness, no. I have never been in the castle. The hounds would scent me in a moment. The fox made a sound which could have been taken for amusement. Wouldn’t that stir the stale air inside those walls? Can you manage from here?

  Thank you, Cat said. I might not have escaped the dogs without your help. What may I do for you in return?

  I don’t have a need at the moment, except for dinner. All this excitement has made me hungry. The fox looked at the kits with her mouth open, tongue curled.

  Both kits drew back into Cat’s shadow. Cat understood that the fox was making a small joke and took no offense. Do you know the declivity across this meadow where there is a city of mice?

  The fox looked across the meadow. No, I have not hunted there. A city of mice?

  Holes everywhere. Follow the line of the forest. When you reach a small hill, go carefully as you pass over it. On the other side you will find many fine, fat mice for your dinner. If there is ever anything I can do for you, send word to the castle. I will hear of it and meet you in this spot.

  With a final poke of her sharp nose at the kits, the fox disappeared into the forest in the direction of the mouse haven Cat had described to her. Cat was hungry himself and knew the kits were as well, but food would have to wait. First, he must get them into the castle and up to Cat’s domain.

  The shadows of evening were long across the meadow. Cat picked up the two kits and, following the darker shadows, made his way to the castle gate. He waited until the humans had gone inside to their evening meal before he carried his double burden under the gate and up to the kitchen entrance.

  I’m hungry, Shado muttered as they slipped through the kitchen and toward the stairs.

  Don’t think about it, Cat mumbled. First, safety. Then, food.

  Cat tried to keep to the shadows and out of sight of the other cats and the stupid dogs. He was not altogether successful. One of his hunting companions, a black and white tom with only half a tail, came out of the kitchen just as Cat started up the stairs. The torn raised his hackles and hissed in mock horror, What is this? Cat, Lord of the Castle, swinging not one, but two kits. Where are you taking these little beggars? They look like something our companions would toss to the dogs.

  Cat felt the little ones tense with fear. Be still, he said to the kits. You are perfectly safe with me from both the dogs and from cats whose manners are as short as their tails.

  The black and white torn hissed and bowed his back, but he was not close enough for Cat to take a swipe at him, so Cat moved up the curved stairway, the kits swinging as he climbed.

  He isn’t following us, Shadow stretched his neck to watch the stairs behind them.

  I would be surprised if he did, Cat said. He does all his fighting with speech. Perhaps having part of his tail missing makes him feel inferior. He rarely throws himself into a real fray.

  Do the other cats tease him about his tail? a soft voice asked and Cat realized the little sister had spoken for the first time.

  Cat put the kits down at the narrow end of the stairs and sat, with them between his front paws. Most of the time the castle cats are kind to each other, even to him. I was unkind to speak of his short tail. I will bring him a mouse one day soon.

  Now, we are almost there. I am taking you to the White Cat. She is very wise and will know what to do with you.

  The two kits sat obediently, seeming overwhelmed by the castle and the activity in it. From the stairs they could watch people and animals passing below. Is it always like this? Shado whispered.

  Most of the time, Cat said. Come, let’s finish our journey.

  White Cat said, My, my. Then repeated it for the seventh or eighth time, My, my. Where did you find them, Cat?

  Cat told her the entire tale including the flight through the air which made her laugh. He told her everything that was known about the kit’s mother and other sister, about the hounds, and the fox who had helped them escape.

  Through all the discourse the kits sat silent, backed up against Cat, watching White Cat with dark luminous eyes. They had never seen a cat of such size or beauty. When she leaned down to sniff them, they shrank closer to Cat, trying to hide behind his front legs.

  Ho, now. I have just finished telling what brave kits you are, and you are making a liar of me. Sit up straight. White Cat is the best friend you will ever have.

  The kittens straightened and tried to endure White Cat’s scrutiny without trembling.

  Do the younglings have names? she asked Cat.

  Not when I found them. I think Shado is a good name for the gray. I have not thought of anything for the little sister.

  Appropriate for him, she sniffed. The little sister reminds me of the lace Milady wears on her gowns at the edge of the sleeves and hems. Would you answer to Lace, little sister?

  If it pleases you, the smaller kitten answered.

  I see your poor mother taught you some manners. How long has it been since you had a bath?

  Cat nearly washed my fur off, Shado said, and the fox washed her.

  The fox! she murmured in surprise as she flattened Lace with one white paw and began at her ears to wash away all traces of the forest and of strangeness. Hours ago, I am sure.

  Although he needed a wash himself, Cat began to wash Shado to hide his expression of amused satisfaction. White Cat was purring. She had not sighed once since he walked in the door with two kits swinging from his tired jaws.

  The journey had been arduous. Even the hair on the tip of his tail ached, but it was worth every step if it made White Cat happy.

  Baths over, White Cat pushed the kittens toward her dish of fresh cream and showed them how to lap from the bowl. While they drank, she curled herself around Cat and began to wash his ears. How do you know, Cat? How do you always know what will make me happy?

  Cat did not answer. He put his weary head down on White Cat’s flank and allowed himself to drift off to sleep. The kits were safe and White Cat was happy. What more could any cat want?

  In Bastet’s Service by P. M. Griffin

  He met Bastet’s eyes. His mien was respectful, certainly, for she was revered in heart and mind by all his kind, but his gaze was steady and calm, set. He would not yield.

  The goddess’ platinum-furred body was perfectly still, her tail coiled daintily around her forepaws. She read her companion’s determination but felt no anger that his will was set against her command. Pride and courage, independence of thought and strength of will, dignity of being were integral to a feline soul and honored her; abject submission could never do so. It was a glory to all catkind that he had not been broken by the awesome adversity he had endured.

  Sadness softened the serene majesty of her exquisitely formed features. He was without choice in this all the same, as was she. The Great One who ruled above all the creatures’ gods
had set her charges on the Ninefold Path, and every cat must walk it the full distance before rest and reward could at last be claimed.

  You have been hard-used, little traveler, she said with infinite gentleness, but eight more incarnations lie before you, eight more lives in which you must seek to follow and fulfill the Plan as it has been given to us.

  No more Plans and no more Partners, he declared firmly. All I need to know of those, I have learned already to my great hurt. I cannot refuse to live again, for that is the nature and the fate of a cat, but never, O Divinity, shall I voluntarily approach one of those blood-tainted renegades or open myself at all to their treachery.

  Not all humans use those sharing place with them so, she corrected gently.

  The goddess fell silent. She understood his stand and sympathized with it, but by holding to it, this high and worthy soul was dooming himself to eight more barren lives. He would never know the greatest joy and fulfillment a cat could have before gaining entry into the Wide Realms. He would never experience the Plan as it should be lived, never walk in true partnership with a human in a relationship where each loved and supported the other in accordance with his or her own nature and abilities. Even if the opportunity for such an association should present itself, he would not and could not permit so much as the initial approach to take place. Most assuredly, he would never seek a Partner of his own accord. As a result, his remaining lives would be dim shadows of what they could have been and even the eternity to follow would be less full, less complete, and less satisfying.

  Her head raised. That was the fate of all too many of her charges, but this little one had suffered so intensely and had come through so strong. He deserved better than he would permit himself, and she determined to take a hand in his affairs herself.

  You need rest and peace before resuming your work. Go now and taste a little of the happiness of my realm. It may be that I shall assign you a place and specific duties within it rather than merely send you forth with my blessing and good wishes to seek your fortune as it falls.

  Francie eagerly lifted the statue out of its box and studied it closely. It was thirteen inches high and surprisingly heavy for its size, though she should have anticipated that weight. It was bronze, after all, not something cast in plastic, however cunningly.

  The little cat was indeed a lovely thing. It was an exact reproduction, albeit on a smaller scale, of the Egyptian original which always drew and held her when she made one of her frequent visits to the museum. Here was the same realism in the lithe, muscular body, the same serenity. Even the gold, intricately worked collar looked to be identical to that worn by the original. She had paid a hefty price for the piece, but it was money she did not grudge. To her mind, it was more than well spent.

  The woman stroked the figurine as she set it on the table near the closet in her bedroom that she had allotted to receive it. She was pleased to see that it looked as well there as she had hoped.

  Her eyes instinctively went to the empty place below the pillow on her bed, and she sighed. Poor little Turtle. If only she were here to appreciate this new acquisition with her…

  Francie’s home had been catless for three weeks now, ever since the eighteen-year-old had died peacefully in her arms. It was still too soon, but she would not wait too very long before opening her heart and life to another four-footed friend, or maybe to a pair. There were many little creatures in this world in need of the love, care, and respect she wanted to give, beings who would return any offering of hers a thousandfold.

  The need were great but the apparent response were slight?

  Francie’s heart seemed to jerk out of her breast and then stop altogether. The question had been quite audible, perfectly comprehensible, but it had rung directly in her mind, not in her ears at all.

  She whirled to face the statue, from which the thought-words had seemed to come. It was precisely as she had left it.

  The human blinked and shook her head emphatically. Of course, it was the same! What was she imagining? Some ancient curse out of a violated tomb? Such things might or might not be, whatever the denial of accredited science, but one had at least to have the misfortune of possessing a genuine artifact to come under their power. Her cat was a wonderful replica, but it was of very recent vintage and had been manufactured by thoroughly modern methods for the most unmystical purpose of making money. It was not even issued by the museum owning the original but by a large, mail order mint specializing in producing such collectibles.

  It is a fine piece for all that, a worthy image of me and a suitable focus for my manifestation as well as a guide in leading me to you-though I grant the craftsfolk fashioning it hardly anticipated that their work was destined for such honor and significance.

  “What… Who…” This could not be happening, but with all her senses contradicting reason, she had to try to conduct herself as circumstances seemed to demand.

  I am Bastet, of course, the reply came instantly, amusement rippling in it, she whose image you display.

  “But it’s not real, Francie protested.

  It is real enough, although not old. The original statue was new, too, in its own time. The mental voice became graver. I do not inhabit it. The figure is merely a focus, as I have said. Folk of your species have always been disconcerted by being addressed, as it were, from out of the air.

  Holding a discussion with an inanimate object was not particularly reassuring, either, the woman thought miserably. Was this insanity, then? She had always imagined the mad to be at ease with their delusions, accepting the reality, the lightness, of them even when they were of an unpleasant nature…

  Do not fear for your sanity, child, the soft voice assured her. Your mind is sound, very sound, as well as uncommonly open and sensitive to the Wide Realms, or I should not have revealed myself to you. You are, in full truth and concrete reality, in the presence of Bastet, who was once worshiped by your own kind even as I am to this day by my fur folk.

  A new thought, and with it sharp fear, filled the human’s mind. “I give you welcome, Lady Bastet, as best I can, and respect, but I can’t adore you.” The words came in a rush before she could be struck down for a seeming lack of courtesy and her failure to display the expected behavior, which she did not even know. “I-I bought the statue because I loved it, not…”

  I know where your allegiance lies. That is proper, and I do not expect you to waver in it. It is not your worship that I desire but your service, more of that same service you gave me for eighteen of your years in your association with one of my charges.

  “Turtle!”

  The goddess smiled. Francie could feel it, although she still saw nothing but the immobile figure. A being rich in love and peace now free to enjoy the bliss of the Wide Realms since this last was her final incarnation. She onlyawaits reunion with your spirit for her happiness to be complete.

  The woman swallowed. “I’m glad of that. I wouldn’t call her back here, though I miss her terribly.” She hesitated. “She was so much a part of my life and of this apartment that everything I do or see here brings memories of her. They’re happy, but still…”

  I know, Francine. You are a true Partner, ever treating one with one with your comrade, equal to equal, despite the differences in species and gifts. That is as it should be, though many even among those who love my little ones fail to achieve it.

  Francie’s eyes, as green as Bastet’s own although of a less intense shade, rested pensively on the goddess’ image. “What do you want with me, Lady Bastet, and what made you choose me for your work in the first place? A great many very talented and capable people love cats. I’m in no way extraordinary at all.”

  Again, that mental smile. Let others more practiced than your kind in the reading of hearts and souls be the judge of that, Francine of the Partners. I shall answer your second question first. The sensitivity to reality beyond what your people see as the normal pale and your openness of mind were strong factors influencing my choice, as was your prov
en history as a Partner. Your reasons for acquiring my image sealed my decision. You did not want it for display, for idle show as some sort of proof of culture. You took it into your home because you loved the work and the species it imagined, because you were drawn to the particular vision of my charges, the respect and dignity and beauty, that the ancient artist revealed in his portrayal of me.

  The human’s lips tightened. High praise sometimes preceded dark or heavy labor. “The service you want from me?”

  There is a cat currently in my realm who was severed from his first incarnation only a week after passing his first natal anniversary. It was a year of unremitting abuse.

  “I don’t want to hear it!” She caught herself. “I’m sorry, Lady, but don’t tell me the details. They’ll only torment me. I can’t do anything about them, not even try to avenge him. Such stories bother me terribly,” she finished lamely.

  Very well. It is not necessary for you to know. Let it suffice to say that never in that year did he know a tender word or gentle touch, yet he came forth with mind and spirit unbroken, though with heart heavily scarred. Soon, he must begin his second incarnation following the nature of his kind. The scars he carries within him will prevent him from seeking, much less attaining, a partnership such as Turtle enjoyed throughout her thrice-blessed life, not in his new incarnation or in any of those to follow it, unless an active and constant effort is made to undo the damage he has sustained.

  “You believe I can help?” Francie asked doubtfully. She would not have dared to adopt a human child so troubled, recognizing that she was not qualified to handle the challenge, and she doubted that a member of the feline race was any less complex.

  Without question, Bastet responded, but the full benefit may not blossom until the incarnation to follow. The cat died young. It is my belief and hope that he will heal quickly under consistent love and care, but you must face the possibility that you shall never receive from him any part of the open affection and trust that you enjoyed in your time with Turtle even should he be with you as long or longer still.